


Amnesia

by Sam_Haine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys Kissing, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes in Bucharest, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Heavy Angst, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, No Spoilers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 07:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Haine/pseuds/Sam_Haine
Summary: Steve finds Bucky's hideout in Bucharest. But he was never going to turn him over to the Avengers. His loyalty to James Buchanan Barnes ran deeper than any moral compass that was built into Captain America. There was no Captain America when Bucky was around. Just a little blonde from Brooklyn and his Bucky.





	Amnesia

**Author's Note:**

> New to this fandom. I love these two. No Infinity war spoilers.

Amnesia

 

Steve couldn't contain his emotions as he stood stoically in the little, quiet room, soft but tortured blue gaze focused on the bustling little town just outside the window. 

_Bucharest. Romania._

This is where Bucky's been hiding out for the past year. From S.H.I.E.L.D... or from the Avengers. From _Steve._ The tiny mattress in the corner of the room should look like a sad indicator of a miserable and lonely person. And for a moment, it did. 

But then Steve looked further and saw a soft, multicolored oriental blanket rumpled to the very corner of the mattress and a simple white pillow. Just near the wall, at the edge of the sleeping space, Steve sees an old book, with a dirty hardcover and even dirtier pages. The gold script on the front is faded and no single word is readable. But Steve figures it's something of Orwell's. He snorts at the thought, thinking; _'you always were a conspiracist, Buck.'_

There's another book atop a small fridge in the opposite corner of the room. It doesn't look like an indulgent novel though. It's more like a small notebook. He reaches gingerly for it, the few granola bars sliding meekly off. He carefully thumbs through the pages, brows furrowing ever so often as he realizes that it's a record of Bucky's memories. Or at least, what little he remembers. Last time, their encounter had been tainted by a HYDRA-brainwashed Bucky who was on a detailed mission to kill Captain Amer-

 _There's a coloured picture of himself, staring right back at him with what he notices as the fakest of smiles._

In black ink, there's an arrow on the brown-tinged pages that the picture is stuck on to; ...it says, _'Who is Steven Rogers?'_ Below the daunting question are the abstract network of tiny inked arrows pointing to key words like "WW2", "1942" and "end of the line." Steve's heart does a little flip at that and he can feel his throat closing up uncomfortably. He swallows as his eyes start to blur, shaking hands replacing the book right where he found it. 

He slowly takes off his helmet and drops his shield to the floor where it clatters noisily until it settles on the wooden floorboards. He's tired and his heart finally starts to cave. A single tear runs down his face as he blinks owlishly around the room, noting how empty the space is but realizing that it's no different from the apartment Bucky had back in the forties... the very same apartment he'd implored Steve to share with him. 

_"C'mon Steve, it's just outside of New York and it's cheap."_

_"I don't want to leave Brooklyn, Buck."_

Steve remembers visiting the place once and absolutely hating how lonely it seemed. But Bucky confessed that he'd felt like a caged bird in Brooklyn and thought it would be economically logical to move somewhere cheaper. Truth be told, he'd just wanted Steve to stop living by himself. He was sickly and not very aware of the horrors of the real world out there. Bucky just wanted to protect him from all that. 

Then the war happened. 

"And we got stuck..." 

Steve isn't aware that he'd just muttered the words out loud. Just realizes that he's sobbing uncontrollably now, with one of Bucky's t-shirts clenched tight in his hands. He falls to his knees on the mattress and doubles over, forehead pressing into the soft pillow that smells like nothing and everything of Bucky's at once. It's a new smell from the one he's used to but granted he's agonizingly desperate to find some sense of constance in his life, the new smell is a comfort. 

He can't explain it. He just knows that he woke up, from the ice, in the 21st century, in a totally new world. With a new New York, a more populated Brooklyn, bizarre technology and better food. But none of it meant anything because he'd lost all of his old friends. He'd lost Peggy, Howard and most of all, Bucky. He'd believed Bucky to be dead after he fell off from the train. He'd gone into the ice _grieving_ for his best friend. Nothing but the thought of Bucky on his mind as the plane crashed into the snowy grave. 

Then he woke up and... everything was different. 

Bucky was alive but he wasn't _Steve's_ Bucky. No. He was just the shell of a man he knew once. In a time so far removed from the century that he felt alien amongst men like Vision, Hulk and Thor. He was the odd one out. It was easy pretending he was fine all the time when he let out his frustrations in the secrecy of his room at night. Tony, Natasha, Fury, Banner, Sam... none of them knew how hard he cried every night, his heart agonizing over all the people he'd lost to time. And all the time he'd lost. 

They didn't know how he whined into his pillow stained with tears, wanting to go home- to go back to 1942. He didn't care if there was a war. He'd get everyone back and he'd have the strength and sense to make Bucky runaway with him until the war was over... hideout in that stupid apartment just outside of New York. He knew Tony resented him because of his connection to Howard and he wished he could take that pain away too. Everything that was happening now seemed to be because of him. In some twisted way or other. If Bucky hadn't tried to protect him all those years ago on that train, he wouldn't have fallen. He would still be safe. 

"I just want to go..." He whispers softly to himself, stripping off his combat gear and slipping into one of Bucky's oversized grey t-shirts. It fit his post-serum body snug, like a glove. He forgoes any idea of putting on a pair of jeans and just rests his head on Bucky's pillow, pulling up the incredibly soft blanket over his shoulder, snuffling deeper into the warmth. Tears still traced slowly down the soft contours of his pretty face, clinging to his wispy lashes, soaking into the white pillowcase under him but he doesn't try to stop. Crying seems to be all he can do now. 

He had a mission. 

Fury gave him a mission. 

_"Find James Buchanan Barnes."_

"I found you..." He whimpered softly to himself, his eyes becoming sore from the sudden constant wetness. 

He rarely ever disobeyed orders from a commanding soldier. Hell, it was enshrined in him ever since he was born, that a good soldier followed orders and executed those orders to the best of his human ability. But right now, for the first time since 1941, Steve felt the urge to rebel. Dammit, he earned it! He finally found Bucky after all those long and torturous years- He wasn't going to give him up-

"Get up. Show me your face." 

The distinctive clicking of a gun put Steve on high alert within seconds. He swallows his grief and slowly sits up, the folds of the blankets falling around his waist. His hands are up in the air, palms faced front because Bucky's a well-trained assassin- anything can trigger him. His blue eyes flicker to the locked door that he hadn't even heard squeak when Bucky came in. 

"Steven Rogers." 

It's not a question. Just a simple statement of fact. 

"Or should I say, Captain America?" Bucky drawls smoothly, kicking the metal shield across the floorboards. Steve doesn't even flinch. 

He's too busy looking at the way Bucky's hair falls into his eyes. And the way that orange t-shirt and blue-black jacket don't match at all. The black cap is less than practical but Steve guesses that it's not since no one's been able to find the guy for a while. No one except him... it was as if he had a personal compass for James Barnes. 

"I'm not here to arrest you." He finally mutters, hating how choked up his voice sounds. His tears have subsided but the ache in his chest is still rampant. Bucky's clear, blue eyes take over his body and for a second he feels a stroke of heat down his thighs. That stroke goes cold when Bucky cocks the hammer of the 9mm Beretta in his steady hands. 

"Who sent you?" 

"The explos-" 

"That wasn't me. Who sent you?" 

"I know it wasn't, Buck." Steve says sadly, his hands becoming tired from being up for too long. 

Bucky frowns at the nick-name. 

"I know you." 

Steve nods slowly. "Yes." 

Bucky frowns harder and reaches down to tug the blankets off of Steve's body. He whimpers at the sudden coldness on his bare legs and a light blush rises to his cheeks as he blinks up at Bucky through his lashes. The man is studying his long, muscled legs, pale and creamy and hairless. His underwear is partly concealed by Bucky's t-shirt but pale blue eyes notice them anyway. 

"We were friends Buck. You were my best pal... d'you remember that?" Steve tries, feeling his emotions go all out of balance again as Bucky fixes him with a look of scorn. 

"I remembered you... being my mission." 

A pained whine releases involuntarily from Steve's throat and Bucky seems the slightest bit affected. The blonde tries again. 

"No, before that. We lived in Brooklyn. You- ...you were always lookin out for me. Girls, cars or my sketches- school?... you were right there with me. _Please_ remember Buck... _Please."_

It seems like hours pass before Bucky is suddenly un-cocking the gun and slipping it back into the holster at his right thigh. He's still got that faraway look in his eyes and Steve doesn't know if to feel relief or worried. His hands slowly lower to his sides, sitting there in Bucky's bed, watching the man pace the room over and over in a crazed loop that's both maddening and comforting. He's trying to rack his brain for the right memories. Memories of Brooklyn. Or memories of the war. And memories of Steve, always being by his side. They were almost inseparable back then. 

"Steve..."

It's nothing but a whisper but the sudden twinge of... _feeling_ in his chest that's been dead for so long catches him off-guard. Behind his eyes, he sees a sort of silverscreen playing back all of his memories of his old life. The life of James Buchanan Barnes, not the Winter soldier. He sees vague images of his parents... much too vague to properly recall. But then he sees... _him._

The tiny, scrappy blonde boy with a sparkle in his eye and a soft smile on his lips. He sees them walking down dirty, quiet alleys, hands in their pockets. Steve was so much shorter than him but their friendship had always worked. He sees them going to cheap county fairs and sees himself buying cotton candy and popcorn for the boy. He remembers how it felt to... to fall asleep right next to Steve on his bed when Steve's mother had died and the boy didn't know what to do with himself after the funeral. He'd held him that night... close and safe in his arms while the blonde beauty just sobbed into his chest.

_I remember..._

"Your mom's name was Sarah."

Steve blinks up at him with teary blue eyes and trembling lips. 

"You used to wear newspapers in your shoes." 

That particular memory makes him smirk slightly as he quietly slips off his jacket. Steve doesn't take his eyes away from the little show Bucky puts on but his soft smile quickly disappears when he sees that bionic metal arm. It's easily the most notable part if this new Bucky and Steve can't help but feel a but removed from it all. He supposed Bucky had felt the same way about him when he'd changed after the serum. In some humourless way, they were both broken toy soldiers that had been scattered and put back together again with old and new pieces. There were too many holes in their memories but the ones they did remember were some of the best and worst of their past lives. 

"Buck..." He murmurs softly as the assassin lowers himself on his knee beside the mattress, right next to him. 

God, he looked so _conflicted._

So Steve tries to reach out to him and it doesn't end well because in one sudden and swift movement, metal fingers are wrapped tightly around his throat. He gasps, blue eyes wide and scared as he struggles to breathe under the strong metal grip. He's grown stronger with Erskine's super-soldier serum but it all amounts to nothing when it comes to Bucky. 

"I'm- sorry..." He chokes out, warm tears slipping down his face. He won't fight his best friend. He won't fight the boy he'd loved for so long. He owed Bucky the world. And he'd never quite forgiven himself for letting him fall from that train. That was his fault til the day he died. Bucky's powerful grip crushing his windpipe would be a small mercy. 

"They sent you to kill me?" 

It's more of a statement than a question but Steve knew that Bucky's trust wasn't easily gained. Plus, he was wary after being on the run for so long. It would do no good to even fight back- he scoffs at that. As if he'd ever have the strength or will to fight Bucky. 

"B- uh... _Buck..."_

He coughs and gasps for air when Bucky retracts his arm, a dark red bruise imprinted on his pale neck. He whines softly through his tears and sobs, forehead resting on Bucky's shoulder. He doesn't have the strength to fight anymore. He just wants his friend back and if he can't have that, then it didn't make sense being alive. He'd already been forced to live in a Bucky-less world once. Couldn't do it again. 

"I can't." He whimpers, body shaking against Bucky's stiff form. 

His arms come up to wrap themselves around the raven haired man. And suddenly he feels like that tiny kid from Brooklyn again. Sick and frail and wanting... needing Bucky close to him. Wanting his touch but being ever so shy to ask for it. And for a minute Bucky feels like the James Barnes of old; his larger presence and warmth engulfing all of Steve's senses. He sobs harder, tightening his grip on the man, his friend... his everything. 

_"Steven."_

He freezes at the sound of his name on Bucky's lips, and revels in the rumbling vibrations of his chest. Arms rise up to wrap around his body, unsure and uncertain at first. But when Steve pulls back to stare straight into his clear blue eyes, Bucky strengthens his hold on the boy he once knew, coaxing his body closer and closer until they're chest to chest, hearts beating in sync. His metal hand reaches the back of Steve's head, cold fingers carding through the soft blonde hair, gently shoving Steve's face back into his neck. He feels the warm puffs of breath against his skin, feels Steve's agonized sobs shake him to his very core and- 

...And suddenly, he's _home_. 

 

...................

 

The day had gone by faster than Bucky's ever seen in years. 

The lowering sun sends it's last rays of orange golden light in tired shafts across the walls of his little room in Bucharest. They don't do much to dispel the velvet darkness around them though. He's lying on the mattress, head on his pillow, Steve's head on his chest. His boy's body is practically draped over his own- Steve's grown heavy since the serum. 

But he isn't complaining; Steve is just as beautiful as he remembered.

His shirt is soaked through from Steve's tears. He's had to gently berate the boy every five minutes or so from apologizing for what had happened so long ago. 

_"M'sorry I wasn't strong enough Buck..."_

"It wasn't your fault Steve."

_"I should've jumped in right after you."_

"Don't be stupid, love."

_"I let you down... I let you down and I let you go. I'm so weak..."_

"Baby, look at me. Steve, darlin', you didn't let me go. It wasn't your fault. Stop it. If it hadn't been for you I would be dead by now. Or worse, HYDRA and Zemo would still be controlling me."

 _"But-"_

"But nothing, sweetheart. You're here with me now. That's all that matters."

Steve had gone silent after that, his tears still soaking into Bucky's t-shirt. His sobbing had subsided though and that was a good thing he guessed. Now the boy clung to him as he did countless times back in Brooklyn. Before the war and after. Bucky had always been his source of comfort when he felt weak and helpless. Times hadn't changed that. The serum, hadn't changed that. It was almost akin to the dynamic of an Alpha and Omega, both Steve and Bucky being able to find each other through the most adverse of circumstances. 

"God, I missed you." Bucky sighs, pressing a soft kiss on Steve's forehead. The blonde purred happily in response and planted a timid kiss to Bucky's jaw. A little lower and Bucky found his boy's pretty, pink lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt the incredible softness that was Steve. They kept up the kiss like desperate lovers that had been forbidden to be together. And in many ways, they had. 

"When you said you were with me? Til the end of the line?" Steve gasped softly when they pulled apart, tangling his legs with Bucky's even more, wanting nothing but to be absorbed by the man. 

"I meant it darlin'." Bucky rasped softly, his metal arm covering the small fist Steve has clenched in his t-shirt. A warm rumbling purr erupts from Steve's very core and he snuggles deeper into Bucky's neck. 

"Me too, Buck."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. P.S I haven't seen Infinity War yet bc of exams.


End file.
